Lost my Soul
by Argallel
Summary: When he nearly died, Dawson nearly died. Now, he was back on the operating table. Would her soul stay singing through the ordeal? Or would it shatter along with everything she knows?
1. Chapter 1

_Hey there guys! I started this story before Chicago Fire came back from its break for the Olympics. I was really freaking out about Casey and the whole blood from his ears thing. That's really bad for you. Anyways, when they came back and they were all like, "Oh, you've cracked your skull, that's why you're bleeding", I was really unimpressed. He went to his regular doctor's? Psh. I would have rushed to the ER._

_Anyways. This is how I played it out. Some chapters (like this one) are rather short, but they follow the natural pauses of the story. It's already all written, so there's no worry about me not updating it or anything._

_Check back every Thursday for a new chapter!_

_Have a good day!_

* * *

Casey stared down at the sink, his mind having gone blank. _Blood….that's my blood. _Something in his brain whispered that he was hurt- very hurt- and he should go find Gabby. But he just stood at the sink, mesmerized as the little crimson drops swirled down into the drain, gone forever.

_Think, Matt. You have to think. This is wrong. _Casey gripped the sink so hard his knuckles turned white. _This is bad. You need to go tell Gabby. She'll know what to do._

"You're fine," he whispered to himself. "Stop overreacting. You hit your head again, and now you're just a little shaken up. It's nothing."

His hand shook as he finished washing up, terror in the pit of his stomach. He was scared, and something in him told him he was rightly so. But he just kept telling himself he was okay. He could remember telling his mother that- it always seemed to work. Convince yourself you're okay, because ninety-nine percent of the time, you were. If you could calm down and convince yourself of that, everything would get better.

The bed was so soft and looked so inviting that Casey didn't even bother to change out of his clothes. His head was pounding even more, and he felt sick to his stomach. All he wanted to do was sleep for days on end and never wake up.

_It's okay. You're going to be fine. Don't freak yourself out._

* * *

Dawson pulled into the driveway and turned off the car. She was exhausted. That was the only way to put it. Tonight had been just one of those nights. She was glad she'd been around to help out when the power was out, but it was exhausting. She'd already been tired from a full day at the academy, and helping out at the house drained the last bit of energy she had.

Wind whistled around the car, but Dawson didn't move. She knew it would be warmer inside, and Casey would be there, but she was too tired to even think about getting up.

Mm, Casey. The mere thought of him sent a shiver up her spine. She didn't want to admit it- although, she wasn't sure why- but she was in love with him. She loved the way he made jokes, the way he laughed, and the way he was ready to put his life on the line for anyone.

She frowned, though, as she thought about that last part. When Casey had saved that baby, she hated to say it, but she wasn't proud of him at that point. Sure, later she was, but when it first happened, she was simply terrified.

He'd nearly died.

That was all she could think about. Him, collapsing on the ground, blood smeared all over his mask. Then the ambulance ride where convulsions racked his body and he'd barely breathed. She'd barely been able to breathe, either.

Suddenly, Dawson's cell phone vibrated, startling her out of her thoughts. She quickly answered it. "Hello?"

"Hey, Dawson, it's Severide."

"Oh, hey, Severide." Dawson looked down at her watch. It was nearly 9 am. "You down at the station now? I mean, I heard you nearly had your brains knocked out of you earlier."

"Yeah, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

She sat up straight, completely awake now. "Wait, you didn't get hurt, did you? Shay's gonna kill you! Well, maybe she'll kill that guy who tried to do it to you first. Okay, exactly where-"

"Dawson, I'm fine."

"Oh. Then what is it?"

"Did Casey tell you he hit his head again?"

"What?" Her stomach dropped and for a moment, all went silent. "What do you mean he hit his head again?"

"Casey saw the guy who was about to attack me, and jumped him. There was a struggle, and Casey hit his head again. He swore he was okay, but…"

Dawson tried to undo her seatbelt, but her hands were cold and shaking. "But what?" Finally, the button snapped open and she jumped out of the car. She needed to get to Casey, now. "Severide, was he really okay?"

"That's it, really, I'm not sure." Pause. "He seemed a little out of it, but swore he was okay. And then I had to go to the station, and you know. I figured he probably hadn't told you or anyone about it."

"Darn straight he hadn't." Dawson fumbled with her house key. "Okay, thanks for calling Severide. I'll check in on him and call you back."

"Okay, thanks."

She tore into the house as she hung up the phone. "Matt?" she called out, trying not to sound worried. "Matt, baby, where are you?" When there was no answer, her heart rate skyrocketed. "Matt? Are you home?"

The house seemed larger than normal, her voice bouncing. She quickly rounded the corner to his bedroom in hopes of finding him there.

"Matt?"

She sighed in relief. There he lay on the bed, eyes closed…almost peaceful looking. He was just sleeping. That's why he hadn't heard her. And by the looks of it, he had simply crawled into bed without a second thought. He was still even in his clothes.

Dawson took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself down. He was okay. Matt had said he would tell her if anything was really wrong, and she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that so badly, but she was having trouble doing so.

But he was just sleeping, not dead, or lying on the ground having a seizure or anything. She scolded herself gently. _Stop worrying. He said he'd tell you if anything was really wrong, and he will._

The bed looked so warm, especially with Casey lying in it, that Dawson quickly changed into her pyjamas and just crawled in beside him. The adrenaline had worn off and she was once again exhausted. She ran her hands through Casey's hair before closing her eyes.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review!_


	2. Chapter 2

_So yeah. I did post a chapter last night, but apparently I posted the same one as the first chapter. That sounds like something I would do...thanks to those who let me know!_

_Anyways, some of you guys asked me last week if Casey wasn't sleeping, rather unconscious. That's sure is an interesting theory. Maybe you should read on and find out if it's true..._

* * *

_Rrrring! Rrrring!_

Dawson's eyes snapped open. What was…oh, right, phone. She looked over at Casey, hoping he would get up and get it, but he just kept on sleeping. Fine, she would get it herself. Reaching over to her side table, she picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Dawson, it's Severide."

Instantly, she was filled with guilt. "Oh, Severide, right, I'm sorry I forgot to call you!" Dawson's eyes were wide. "He's okay, I totally forgot to call! He's fine."

"Okay, good." Pause. "Uh, do you mind letting me talk to him for two minutes? He'd want to be kept in the loop about what's happening down here, and… a lot of stuff's happened."

Dawson turned slightly so she could see Casey. "He had a long night, and he's still sleeping- wait, how long has it been since you called me?" She turned around to look at the clock, but for some reason, it was on the floor. Along with the rest of the contents of Casey's side table.

"Uh, about forty minutes? I figured, if something was actually wrong and you called an ambulance or something, you'd be in the waiting room by now, and not in the ambulance or anything."

Why was everything on the floor?

"Dawson?"

"Right, sorry." She tore her eyes away from the clock which sat among the scattered pennies on the ground. "Yeah, I guess you can talk to him. He'd kill me if he found out I didn't wake him. One second." She used one hand to cover the phone and the other to gently shake Casey. "Hey, Matt, wake up."

When he didn't even stir, Dawson smiled, but tried again, a little louder. "Matt, wake up. Severide's on the phone and wants to talk to you." Again, he didn't even move. "Matt?" She shook him harder, panic spiking in her heart. "Matt? Matt, wake up!"

Casey involuntarily rolled over as Dawson shook him. She dropped the phone in shock.

"Dawson? Dawson? Did you drop me-er, the phone? Is everything okay?"

Blood trickled out of his nose and ears.

"Oh Gosh, Matt!" Dawson's voice was shrill. She only hesitated a second before snatching the dropped phone off the floor. "Severide, it's Matt! I gotta go!"

"Wait, I-"

The phone shook in her hands as she quickly dialed 9-1-1. As it rang, she looked over at Casey, too afraid to touch him, her paramedic training flying out the window. She whispered, "Please, please, be okay."

"Nine one one, ambulance, fire, or police?"

"Ambulance," she managed to choke out. There was a slight pause as her call was transferred, and she glanced over at Casey.

"What's the nature of your emergency?"

"My boyfriend, he, uh-" She swallowed thickly, trying to compose herself. "He hit his head last night, and now I can't rouse him. He's bleeding from his ears and nose." Her hands felt so cold.

"And what address is this at?"

Dawson rattled off the rest of the required information. The whole time she kept one hand near Casey, and the other on the phone. She couldn't bear to touch him directly. And she was a paramedic for goodness sake! She knew she should do something, she just couldn't. Fear had wormed its way into her thoughts, and it's difficult to get rid of a parasite like fear.

Suddenly, Casey's back arched as a cry escaped his lips. Once again, Dawson nearly dropped the phone, but this time she managed to keep a firm grip on it. "Oh gosh, he's having a seizure!"

Casey began to convulse, hitting his limbs on the side table. Now it made sense to Dawson why the clock was on the floor. This wasn't his first seizure today. She mustn't have seen the clock on the floor when she came in earlier.

"Okay, can you move anything away from him so he doesn't injure himself further? The paramedics are four minutes out."

"He's…he's-" Dawson took a deep breath. "He's close to the bed post, but I can't move him." Then she quickly added, "I'm a paramedic."

"Alright, good. So you've had training on what to do in these sorts of situations."

Then, as suddenly as it started, the seizure stopped, and Dawson let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "It stopped," she said softly. "He's stopped seizing, but I don't think this was his first seizure. I got home about 40 minutes ago and was sleeping beside him, so it must have been before I got home."

"Do you know if he has a seizure disorder?"

"No…well, not that I know of." Dawson blinked back tears. "A month and a half ago he had to have Burr Hole surgery to evacuate a subdural bleed. And he hit his head again a few hours ago, and I'm worried he's bleeding again."

"You were right to call. The ambulance is nearly there; can you roll him into recovery position?"

Recovery position…right. Dawson mentally smacked herself. She needed to roll Casey into recovery position so his airway stayed open and he didn't choke on vomit or his tongue. As she rolled him, she noticed he had bitten his lip clean through during the seizure.

Sirens wailed and suddenly Dawson realised she'd been hearing them for 30 seconds and hadn't taken notice. With a glancing look at Casey, Dawson picked up the phone again and headed towards the door. "They're here. Thanks for your help." And without waiting for a reply, she cut the connection and pocketed the phone.

Someone banged on the door. "Chicago paramedics!"

She swung open the door. "Oh my gosh, Sean!" She nearly threw her arms around the man, but thought better of it. He was the second shift paramedic at Firehouse 51. "It's Casey. He hit his head again and I can't wake him. He had a seizure, too."

Sean nodded grimly and pushed past Dawson, partner in tow. "Let's get an IV in and push diazepam. I don't need another seizure." He gave Dawson a sympathetic smile. "We'll take it from here. You riding with us?"

She nodded mutely. How had this slipped past her?

As they rolled Casey out the door, she caught a glimpse of his eyes. His vivid green eyes, staring blankly into the frigid air, before Sean closed them gently.

* * *

_Thanks for all your reviews and the like last week! You have no idea how happy they made me!_

_P.S. Good job to those who guessed Casey wasn't just sleeping. In my head I call my stories "Abuse the Muse". So yeah. This is going to be a TON of Casey whump. Yeah!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey! So you've come back to read more...huzzah! Thanks for all the reviews and favourites, guys, it really means a lot to me. To have others appreciate what I do is phenomenal. _

_I hope you enjoy this next chapter!_

* * *

Severide barely waited for the automatic doors of the emergency department to open before sliding through. As soon as Dawson had hung up the phone because something was wrong with Casey, he had begged Lindsey to let him go. She had refused, of course, but he told her he was going whether she liked it or not.

So here he was, in the hospital…with Lindsey hanging by the doors. Not that he cared at this particular moment. All he could think about right now was Casey. His eyes landed on Dawson sitting in the back corner of the waiting room, and he hurried over. "Dawson."

"Severide." She stood up and immediately her eyes filled with fresh tears. "I didn't- I…I couldn't-there was just-"

"Okay, okay, slow down and take a deep breath." Severide put one arm around her. "Tell me what happened from the beginning."

She sniffed slightly, trying to regain composure. "When you called me the first time, I went inside, and Casey was sleeping." She paused. "Or that's what I thought at the time. I went to sleep next to him, and then you called again. You asked to talk to him, so I tried to wake him up, only I couldn't." Her voice wavered.

The air in the emergency room was cool, especially without a sweater, but Severide barely noticed. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. What happened after that?"

Dawson bit her bottom lip, looked at Severide, and continued. "I called 911, but as I was talking to them, he had a seizure. And I don't think it was his first, either. He must have had one before I got home. It stopped, thankfully, and by that time Sean was there, and he rushed him here."

Severide dropped into a nearby chair, head in his hands. How had he let this happen? "Casey said he was okay," he growled. "I shouldn't have listened. Casey's just a stubborn idiot, and I should have known he was lying to me."

"I just keep thinking, what if I hadn't sat in the car for ten minutes? What if I got inside earlier and saw him having a seizure? He might have even been conscious when it started. He would have been so scared."

They both sat there in silence, each thinking about what they wish they could have done differently. Severide's hands shook slightly, and he cursed them. Actually, he cursed everything. It just wasn't fair that Casey kept getting hurt. And he kept getting hurt just to save others. He nearly died saving that baby in the fire, and he hurt himself again saving Severide's own sorry self.

"Hey, Severide?"

"Hm?" He looked up.

There was a pause before Dawson spoke again. "I can't help but think that Casey won't ever be a firefighter again. I mean, it's a miracle that he managed to get back to almost 100% after the first injury. But when someone gets a second blow to the head?" She swallowed thickly. "The chances are low, Severide, real low."

Again, it was silent for a moment as Severide tried to digest what Dawson was saying. "It's Casey," he said finally. "He'll always be a firefighter."

She nodded, and turned her face back downwards. She really wasn't sure what to think.

"Family of Matthew Casey?"

Dawson and Severide both stood up immediately and hurried over to the young doctor in the door of the emergency department. "How is he?" Severide asked quickly.

The doctor looked at them both, raised an eyebrow, but continued. "Matthew suffered an epidural hematoma as a result of the blow to the head he received last night." She paused. "This comes a month after he suffered a subdural hematoma, am I correct?"

Dawson nodded. "He had Burr Hole surgery to relieve the pressure."

"Right. And that's what we want to do again."

Dawson staggered back slightly, the idea of Casey's head being once again drilled open shocking her. "But…" She swallowed hard, trying to regain some control. "But isn't it riskier this time around?"

The doctor looked straight at Dawson, and nodded. "Yes." She waited for a moment before continuing. "The risks of a second brain surgery are much higher, not to mention that Mr. Casey's bleed this time is much more severe, and wasn't caught early. Since he hit his head earlier this morning, it has been bleeding and slowly compressing his brain."

Severide brought a hand up to his head and ran it through his hair. "What are you saying, doc?"

"We're looking at a 50/50 chance of surviving. And that doesn't take in account quality of life."

* * *

Severide couldn't help but smile as Dawson's head lolled to the side, then quickly snapped up again for what seemed to be the billionth time. There wasn't much they could do but wait. Since they'd been at the firehouse awake all night, both of them were tired. But Severide couldn't go to sleep. He just couldn't, not with Casey lying on some cold table somewhere, having his skull once again drilled open.

And this time it was even more serious.

He had been there the first time when convulsions wracked Casey's body. He'd had to hold him down while Dawson tried everything to get him to breathe again. He was there for the long wait, and there when Casey came back to the firehouse.

But now? Well, now he didn't think he'd be there for the firehouse return. And not because he was leaving either. He wanted to stay positive, but the odds were stacked up against Casey.

"Severide."

He looked up to see Lindsey standing awkwardly in front of him. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she continued. "Look, I know you want to be here for your team, but seriously, we should get you back to the barn. You've been out in the open for long enough."

"I'm not leaving." Severide's voice was flat, and he almost felt enraged by the way the Lindsey told him they had to go. Did she really think he would just up and leave?

"I'm not asking, Severide."

"Good, because I'm not going."

Lindsey glared at him. "Okay, I get you feel bad about Casey, and that he's your friend. But he wouldn't want you to leave yourself-"

"He wouldn't want me to?" Severide asked, his voice rising dangerously. He stood up. "Don't tell me what Casey would want. You don't know anything about him!"

Dawson, roused from her slumber by Severide's yelling, stood up and touched his arm gently. "Severide-"

"No, Dawson, no." Severide's face twitched slightly as he tried to keep his anger under control. "You have no right to say what Casey would want! How would you know? The only thing you know about him is that he risked his life for me! He could die for me!"

"Exactly." Lindsey sighed. "He could die for you. Do you know how pissed he would be to find that he nearly died for you, and you put your life at risk?"

It was silent for a moment before Dawson gave Severide a small, sad smile. "You should go. I'll call in the cavalry…" She trailed off. "Shoot. I never called Shay or Boden or anyone…they're gonna kill me…"

"Darn it…" Severide rubbed his hand through his hair. "Look, fine. I'll go." He turned to Dawson. "But you call me the moment you hear anything. Alright? Anything." He faced Lindsey. "Let's go." Without waiting, he turned and left.

Dawson sighed. She really had simply forgotten to call anybody else, and now she knew she had to make the calls. She wasn't sure she wanted anyone else here with her, though. Severide was one thing. But she knew that as soon as the word got out, everyone would be here.

But she picked up her phone anyways, and slowly dialed Boden's number. It rang three times before he picked up, his voice only slightly distorted by sleep.

"Boden."

"Chief." Dawson hadn't realized she was shaking so much. "It's Dawson." She swallowed hard.

"Dawson?" Immediately, all the sleepiness was gone from his voice. "Dawson, what's happening?"

"It's Casey." She paused. "I found him at home, and he was unconscious. I called the paramedics, but he had a seizure, and well, now I'm just at the hospital. Severide was here, but he just had to leave. I'm sorry I forgot to call you." It all came out in one big rush.

"Dawson, I'll be right there." Pause. "Stay strong."

She heard the phone click off, and she immediately sagged back into the hard chair in relief. For some reason, she was sure Boden would be mad. It was comforting that he wasn't, but at the same time, she wasn't sure why she ever assumed he would be mad at her.

* * *

_Thanks for reading guys! I hope you're enjoy this ride...as mean as I am to these poor characters!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Welcome to another chapter! I really like this chapter. It is definitely one of my favourites, and a total tear-jerker. You have been warned. Get some tissues ready. **

**Thanks for all your reviews! They mean so much to me!**

* * *

_"But you see, when the smoke turns that colour and thickness, you know you gotta get out, right?" Casey asked animatedly as he and Dawson strolled along the park path, hand in hand. When she raised an eyebrow at him, he was shocked. "What do they teach you at that school? Do they bother to teach anything anymore?"_

_She smirked at him. "Oh, the things they teach us. They just don't compare to your great knowledge, do they, your highness?" She gave him a salute._

_The wind blew a warm breeze across their faces, and Casey's hair ruffled slightly in the wind. "'Your highness'?" he asked. "I'm your boyfriend, not a 'highness'." He wrinkled his nose._

_"Oh, you're my king." And with that, Dawson leant in and kissed him gently on the lips. Casey kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her slim shoulders. They were in love; no one would deny that._

_Suddenly, he pulled away. "Hey, Gabby, look." On the ground was a shiny new penny. He bent down and picked up, examined it, then tucked it in her hand. "See a penny, pick it up, and all day long you'll have good luck."_

_She laughed, but it died away as Casey faltered, then stopped. "Matt, baby?" she asked, pulling away from him slightly. "Are you-"_

_He fell to the ground, eyes rolling back into his head. Dawson covered her mouth. The sky turned dark and the wind seemed to blow colder than it had been previously. Casey's extremities and trunk began to shake and twist violently. _

_"Oh my gosh, Matt!" Dawson dropped to her knees beside her convulsing boyfriend. He continued to seize, a low moan escaping out of his violently clenched jaw. "It's gonna be okay!" she cried as she pulled out her cellphone._

_But she had no reception._

_"Darn it!" Her jaw clenched as she grabbed Casey's arms to try to keep them still. "Come on, Matt! Don't do this to me!" He continued to seize and that was when Dawson noticed the pool of blood under his head. No, no, no! He was supposed to be okay!_

_Suddenly, just as quickly as the seizure had started, it stopped, leaving Casey lying limply on the ground. Dawson gently rolled him into recovery position. "Oh gosh," she whispered. Her hand flew back to her mouth as her stomach lurched._

_Blood ran sticky down the back of Casey's skull, a river of life pouring out from him. Brain matter lay squished on the ground. It looked like minced meat, and Dawson fought the urge to vomit. He couldn't be dead. That couldn't be his brain- his life- spread all over the ground!_

_Dawson turned and retched, bile splashing against the cold ground. When did it get so cold? She felt dizzy. The world was so dark and so cold. Spots flashed before her eyes, and then everything went black._

_"Dawson…Dawson. Gabby."_

Dawson woke with a start, sleep and terror clouding her mind. She looked up quickly to see Shay and Boden standing over her. Shay had her hand on Dawson's arm. "Gabby, you okay?"

"I'm fine." She forced the words out as she tried to clear the nightmare from her mind's eye. She stood up, hands in pockets. "Sorry I forgot to call you guys sooner, it's just-"

"You had other things on your mind, I get it." The chief's voice was a lot less rough than usual, but it didn't make Dawson feel any better. "What have you heard so far? Has the doctor come out to talk to you yet?"

She looked down at her feet. Why had she put these shoes on? They didn't match her pyjamas! She snorted. Casey was down the hall, having his skull cut open, and probably wouldn't make it, and here she was, mad that her shoes didn't match her pyjamas. The absurdity of the situation caught up with Dawson as a small giggle escaped her lips. Soon, she was in full blown laughter, barely able to breathe.

Shay and Boden exchanged looks, slightly confused. What was funny? Shay didn't understand exactly what was funny, but she knew what was happening. It was all crashing down for Dawson, and all she could do was try to support her.

"Hey, Dawson?" Shay said, gently leading her friend to sit down. "Wanna let me in on what's so funny?"

Dawson, through giggles, tried to explain. "My shoes, they don't match my pyjamas!" Another snort escaped her mouth. "My boyfriend, my love of my life, will either die or be a vegetable, and all I can think about is my choice in shoes!" And then suddenly, it was no longer tears of laughter, but sobs of agony. "He's going to be a vegetable."

Shay couldn't do anything but hold Dawson as she sobbed. There were no words to say. She hadn't heard what the doctor had said, but if Dawson was this upset, it had to be bad. Eventually, Dawson stopped sobbing enough that Shay could pull away.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry." Dawson hastily wiped away the fresh tears that rolled down her cheeks. "I don't know what came over me." She sniffed, trying to compose herself.

"It's okay, really." Shay kept her arm around Dawson. "You think you can tell us what the doctor said?"

It was silent for a moment before Dawson spoke again. When she did, her voice was tormented. "He has an epidural hematoma. He's having Burr Hole surgery to evacuate the blood. But…" She paused, trying not to burst out crying once again. "They don't think they caught it in time."

Boden's upper lip curled, a sure sign he was severely distressed. "And this was from the hit he sustained at work today?"

"He hit his head again?" Say looked over at Dawson in surprise. "And you didn't haul him in here before it got bad?"

"I didn't know he hit his head. Matt never told me."

The front doors opened and wooshed shut again, letting in a rush of cold air. Shay tapped her fingers on her leg, uncharacteristically nervous. "So did they tell you recovery time?"

"Shay, there's only a 50% chance he'll make it."

The words hung in the air like a dark cloud descending over the trio. Finally, Boden spoke up. "We're here for you, Dawson," he said quietly. "I'll call the rest of the guys. They need to know about this." He excused himself and pulled out his phone.

Shay's own eyes were welling up. "So they really think he's only got a 50% chance? Really?"

"Really," Dawson confirmed. "And apparently, that doesn't take into consideration his quality of life." She paused to sniffle. "So basically, he's a vegetable. Either that, or dead." She spat the words out, bile rising in her throat.

"Oh, Gabby." Shay leant in again for another hug. She didn't know what she should say. 'Sorry' seemed like too small a word for the severity of the situation.

"I just wish he wasn't such a darn hero," Dawson said. "He was always trying to save someone, being a firefighter and all. He nearly kills himself saving a baby, and now he's gonna be a vegetable just because he wanted to play hero for Severide."

"Men." Shay shook her head. "Casey was really just a teddy bear. He should act like it sometimes."

Dawson snickered quietly. "I guess he really was just a teddy bear." She looked down at the floor. A penny lay nearly hidden from sight underneath a chair. She bent down and picked it up, twirling the seemingly worthless coin in her fingers.

"Family of Matthew Casey?"

A young doctor walked over as Dawson stood up, backed by Shay and Boden. "You guys are Mr. Casey's family?" She asked, somewhat incredulously.

"Family and friends," Boden answered in a voice that left no room for arguing. "How is our man?"

The doctor tapped her fingers against her thigh. "Can we sit and talk?" She motioned towards the chairs where Shay and Dawson had just been sitting. But when no one moved, she cleared her throat and continued. "When we were starting the surgery, Mr. Casey's blood pressure dropped and he began having heart arrhythmias as his brain stem became more and more compressed from all the blood in his brain." She paused. "We did everything we could to resuscitate him, but I'm sorry. Mr. Casey was declared dead a few minutes ago."

Dawson stared at the doctor, penny falling from her grasp. No, no. He couldn't be dead. He was hurt, but not that hurt. He was supposed to be fine! "No," she whispered, her voice breaking. "No, he's not dead! No!" In her blind agony, she threw herself at the doctor, but was caught by Boden.

Shay stumbled backwards, hand over mouth. She couldn't believe it. Casey couldn't be dead. He just couldn't be. Tears rolled down her cheeks as sobs began to rip from her mouth, her chest heaving.

Dawson continued to struggle, yelling now as Boden pulled her in tight. He was by no means a touchy kind of man, but right now? Right now, his heart was broken. He would do anything to make it better.

Problem was, Casey was dead. This was one thing he couldn't make better.

* * *

**Please don't kill me.**

**Yeah, I did it. I killed off Casey, I think I was in a bad mood when I wrote this. Sounds about right. Just goota say, though, I love Dawson losing it over her shoes. That always makes me giggle.**

**Does that make me weird?**

**Whatever.**

**Don't kill me.**


	5. Chapter 5

_So... it's totally not Friday. Okay, so maybe it is. Don't kill me! I mean, I just forgot. Anyways, this chapter is sad, too. This story is just sad as a whole. I'm not really into happy things...lol. Anyways, for those of you who returned even though I killed off Casey- he's my favourite character too- thanks! I think you'll continue to enjoy the story!_

* * *

_Bzrp. Bzrp. Bzrp._

Severide looked down at his phone, hands shaking slightly. It was a text, from Shay. It read: **Call me. Now.**

He licked his lips, and slowly dialed, stomach somersaulting as he listened to it ring. He wasn't expecting a call from Shay so soon. Wasn't the surgery supposed to last longer? He wasn't really sure.

Was it good that it was done so soon, or…

_Don't think about that, Kelly. Don't think that way. Casey will be fine. He has to be fine. He's strong. He'll pull through._

_He's my best friend. Matt has to be okay._

"Kelly."

And then…he knew. Just by the sound of Shay's voice, he knew.

"No," he whispered, falling against a nearby wall. "No, no. Tell me he's fine, Shay. Tell me he's fine!"

"Kelly, I wish- I wish I-"

He let loose a string of curse words, causing everyone in the Precinct to look over at him. "Matt is not dead, Leslie! Last night he saved me from Keeler! He is not dead!"

"Chief's calling a meeting to tell everyone." Pause. "Don't get pissed like you do and run off, okay? I can't-" She cleared her throat. "Kelly, if anything happens to you because you ran away from the one safe place, I won't make it. Please, just please stay there."

Severide put a hand to his face, shocked almost, to find he was crying. "Leslie…" he breathed. "Leslie, Matt's gone."

"I know. I know."

He pulled the phone away from his ear, and flipped it shut. His mind was reeling, and he was sure he was going to vomit. Casey…he…he couldn't be dead! He just couldn't be!

Severide slid down the wall, hand over his face, chest heaving as he tried not to sob. Someone crouched down beside him.

"Kelly…I'm…so sorry."

He looked up to see Lindsey beside him. "Yeah, sorry's right," he spat. "You could have stopped all this, you know!" He stood up roughly. "You should have got Keeler before he got back to us! Before it got back to Matt!"

The room seemed to go silent as Severide yelled. Lindsey stood up slowly. "Kelly-"

"No, no!" he yelled back at her, stepping quite close to her. "You made me leave the hospital! Matt's dead, I'm here, and you could have prevented this all! Why didn't you actually do something, huh? You and your team are good for nothing!"

"Hey!" And then, out of nowhere, Voight pushed himself in between Severide and Lindsey, his arms raised in an act of peace. "You wanna get mad about something, we got punching bags downstairs for that. But you leave my team alone."

Severide took a faltering step backwards. It was quiet, too quiet. Then, he spoke. "I need to go." He headed for the exit, but was stopped by Voight. "Let me go," he growled.

"Kelly, man." Voight's voice had lost its usual roughness, taking on an almost compassionate edge. "Leaving here ain't gonna do you no good. Your friend's dead, and that sucks, man, it really does. But don't go and get yourself killed."

Severide said nothing.

"Kelly." Lindsey stepped forwards. She held out her hand.

Slowly, Severide turned to face Lindsey, tears now pouring down his cheeks, body wracked with sobs. Then, he took her hand.

"It's gonna be okay," she whispered as she pulled him into a hug. "It's gonna be okay."

But it wouldn't be okay. It could never be okay.

* * *

Shay quietly let herself into the meeting room at the firehouse. Everyone's was there, and the room was abuzz with conversation. Well, not quite everyone was there. Casey wasn't. She shook her head to clear it. After finding out Casey hadn't made it, Boden had called an emergency meeting at the house. He and Shay were the only ones who knew what it was about.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice." Boden spoke over the crowd at first, but everyone quickly quietened down. "I realise last night was a long night, and you ought to all be resting for your next shift, but this is important."

"I'm starting to get the heebie-jeebies," Herman whispered to Mills.

"As you all know, last night Severide was being pursued by Keeler. Detective Lindsey got word on who was sent to rough him up, and we caught the guy." Boden paused. "You may have heard Casey took the guy down. What you may not have heard, is that Casey once again sustained trauma to his head."

Herman's face fell, and suddenly the room was alive as everyone whispered back and forth to each other.

Boden cleared his throat. "Casey brushed off his injury, but early this morning, he was rushed to the hospital." The room fell silent. "It turns out the blow to his head caused another bleed." He paused, and the room was so quiet, you could almost hear the tears welling up in Shay's eyes. "He had emergency surgery to fix the bleed, but-" His voice cracked. "Mathew died a few hours ago."

For a scared second, the room stayed silent as everyone tried to process the information. It was Mills who broke the silence.

"No, no, that can't be right," he said, his voice tight. "Casey can't be dead." He looked around the room in disbelief, eyes landing on Shay, who was now crying. "You have to kidding! He can't be dead!"

Herman stood up. He walked towards the wall, and then suddenly punched it, a guttural yell flying out of his mouth. "Darn it!" he yelled as he began to cradle his fist. "Darn it!"

The room was suddenly very loud as everyone began their own tears and cries. Shay cried openly now, her heart torn. Mills just stood there, silent, withdrawn. Casey was his best friend and mentor at the firehouse. Correction; h_ad been _his best friend and mentor at the firehouse. Nausea overwhelmed him and he fell back into his chair, palms pressed into his eyes.

For the longest time, everyone stayed in the room, not sure what to do or where to go. Eventually, Boden spoke up.

"I advise you all go home to your loved ones," he said quietly. "Unfortunately, we do not have any time off. Our next shift is in two days, and Herman will be taking over for Casey." Everyone stared at him, sullen. "We have just suffered a terrible loss, but we will get through this. We will not let this rip us apart." He nodded at the door. "Go home, everyone."

Slowly, most of the fire members filed out the door in various states of shock. When the room cleared, it was only Shay, Boden and Mills left. Mills sat in a chair, unsure of what to do. He honestly didn't know what his next move was supposed to be.

"Mills." Boden spoke quietly. When Mills didn't respond, he walked over to the young man and placed his hand on the trembling shoulder. "Peter."

"He's a hero, you know?" Mills' words were aimed at the floor. "He was one of them stupid heroes who had to go and die for someone else. He saved a baby, for goodness's sake. A baby. You can't be more of a hero than that."

"I know."

"So why did he die then?" The words were full of anger, and Mills clenched his fists. "Darn it, chief!" He stood up abruptly. "If anyone was gonna die, it should have been me! I'm the candidate! I'm the rookie who makes mistakes! Casey was a hero! A hero! He shouldn't have died!"

The air was cool, and Shay shivered. She wasn't sure whether it was because she wasn't wearing a sweater, or because of Mills. Because of what he was saying. "Mills," she said quietly. "Dawson needs you, okay? Come home with me."

Mills' face screwed up, and suddenly he was openly sobbing. "He's dead. He's really dead."

Shay wasn't a hugger usually, especially not with her best friend's ex. But something compelled her to go over to Mills. She wrapped her arms around him, head falling onto his heaving shoulder. "I know," she whispered. "I know."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! And a shout-out to sydcasy for reminding me about Severide. You helped me see a plot hole. Heh, it's all fixed now. :)_


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey guys! This chapter's a little short, but no worries, it should be good. And by good, I mean sad. Honestly, did you expect anything less from me? But it's back to Dawson, so you can see how she's going._

* * *

He looked so…wrong. From the way his hair was parted to the way his hands were folded, it was all just so wrong. Dawson stared numbly. Nothing about it had seemed real, but now that she was being presented with…_him,_ it was all very real. And wrong.

"His colour," she stammered to the lady beside her. "It's…it's..wrong. He doesn't look like that."

The mortician gave Dawson a small smile, and a pat on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, hun," she said gently. "This is as close as we can get. It's hard to colour them up, you know?"

_No, I don't know! _Dawson wanted to scream. She wanted to tear her hair out, slap the lady, do anything but stand here and discuss how to better colour her dead boyfriend's skin. She cleared her throat in an attempt to regain some control. "Can you at least put his hair back to its original part?"

"The way the bald spot is…"

"Yeah, I know." It was silent. Dawson stood there and stared. Shay had wanted to come along for 'emotional support', but Dawson had insisted against it. Now, though, she almost wished Shay was there beside her. "Okay, well, thanks I guess?"

"You're welcome, hun." Without warning, the lady enveloped Dawson in a smothering hug. "I know how difficult this time can be for folks. It was your boyfriend, you say? He's a firefighter, right? Those are firefighter clothes."

Dawson swallowed. "_Was _a firefighter," she corrected. "Lieutenant."

"I don't mean to pry, but was he killed on the job?"

That was a tricky question. Yeah, it had been the job that caused the original injury, and the secondary injury, but he hadn't died on the job. "I guess, yeah."

"I'm so sorry." The mortician let go of Dawson and gave her a long pat on the back. "I bet he was a hero."

"Yeah." She couldn't say anything else. Darn it, why was she crying? She couldn't cry. Especially not here. Not now, not in front of this lady. "Well, I guess, thank you for all your hard work…uh, I think I'll go now."

She left quickly. She couldn't stay in there. Not without crying, anyways, and there was no way she was going to cry in front of that lady. Oh, how she wished she had let Shay come along! The wind blew over Dawson coolly as she pulled out her cell.

"Shay here."

"Hey."

"Oh, hey, Dawson." Pause. "Everything okay? I mean, where are you? Do you need something?"

A glint in the snow caught her eye- a penny. She was too tired to bend down and pick it up. "Do you want to meet me for coffee or something? I just…" She cleared her throat. "I'm finished with the, uh, mortician, and just need to get away from it all."

"Right, okay. That little indie place round the corner from the station?"

"Yeah." Dawson sighed. She felt so empty. "Meet you there in ten." And before Shay could answer, she hung up.

The walk to the coffee shop seemed so long. Every step Dawson took reverberated the message throughout her body; _your boyfriend is dead. Matt is dead. _Even the cool, crisp air- which usually cleared her mind- didn't help at all. It just made her feel cold inside.

Shay was sitting in the back corner of the small coffee shop. She hadn't ordered yet. Dawson sat down in front of her.

"I was thinking about getting something caffeinated," Shay said without looking up from the menu she had in front of her. "I think I want to finish reading that mystery novel I got the other day, and I need the caffeine to keep me going."

"Hm." It wasn't an agreement or disagreement, rather just a noise of acknowledgment. "I wish they served hard liquor here. Why didn't I invite you to a bar?"

Shay placed a hand gently on Dawson's arm. "Because you know that drinking yourself into a stupor isn't the way to fix this," she said quietly. There was a moment of silence. "Plus, coffee's a whole lot cheaper."

A small smile played across Dawson's lips. "Yeah? Have you ever been to Starbucks?"

"Girl, only hipsters who earn bazillions of dollars 'working at home with google!' go to Starbucks." She paused. "And artists, and we are neither of those."

"Maybe we should be." Dawson let the menu fall to the table. "I think I want something decaf. It'll at least help with the whole not being able to fall asleep thing." She looked behind her for a waitress. "Hm, and maybe a doughnut."

"I'll second that."

A waitress walked quickly over to the girls' table, pen in hand and a large smile on her face. "Hi, welcome to Amour Coffee. What can I get you girls today?"

Once both girls ordered, the waitress flashed another cheesy grin at them both. "Great choices! Now sit tight. I'll be right back."

"Ugh." Dawson raised an eyebrow at the fleeing waitress. "Is it even legal to be that happy?"

Shay snorted. "Come on, are you trying to tell me you never even once felt that happy?" She raised an eyebrow at Dawson. "What about all those times I caught you walking out of the bathroom, tucking your shirt in? Huh?"

"Oh gosh, don't remind me." Dawson snickered. "Remember that time Herman was about to walk into the bathroom and I walked out?" A small giggle escaped her lips. "He nearly had a heart attack!"

"And if I remember correctly, so did you." Shay smiled.

Just then, the waitress came back with steaming cups of coffee and two plates. She set then down in front of Dawson and Shay. "You girls have a lovely day now, you hear?"

"'You girls have a lovely day now, you hear?'" As soon as the waitress was out of earshot, Dawson mockingly imitated her. "I was happy. You're right." She took a long drink pause. Shay didn't say anything, just let that last bit stew. "But I wasn't cheesy like her. I was honest to goodness happy."

And for the second time that day, Dawson started to cry.

* * *

_Have a good day!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Good day, everyone! Did you know this is the second last chapter of this story? Yeah, I know! Time seems to just have flown by! Anyways, I hope you weren't expecting this to get any happier, because it won't. Or, at least, not this chapter. Really, would you expect antyhing less than a tear jerker from me?_

* * *

Severide fiddled with his tie. He hated wearing ties. The last time he wore a tie was when- don't even go there, Kelly, he chastised himself. But his mind wandered back to that day when he and his fellow firefighters stood out in the snow, arms raised in a salute to the little boy they could not save.

"Severide."

He looked behind him. When he was lost in thought, the chief had come in. He too was wearing his formal outfit. "Oh, hey," he said quietly.

"You almost ready?" the chief asked, his voice strangely numb. "We're almost ready to get started out there, it's just…" He trailed off.

"Yeah." Even to his own ears, Severide's voice sounded hollow. "Just have to finish tying this stupid tie." He yanked at the piece of material that hung around his neck. "It's stupid, really, but I can never get it right. Casey always tied it for me."

"Here." The chief reached out and quickly tied Severide's tie for him. "Now come on," he said. "Let's get through this." He paused. "Drink's at Molly's afterwards?"

He nodded and walked out the back room.

Inside the main area, it was warm. Stifling, almost, and Severide tugged at his collar. He hated the colour black, and it filled the room. As he walked down the aisle to where he was to stand- at the front- everyone quietened.

As soon as he was standing up front with the rest of the team, the minister stood up. "Thank you all for coming today," he said. "We are here today to commemorate the life of Matthew Taylor Casey. A brave firefighter and a caring friend, Matthew will be missed by all." He paused. "His friend, Kelly Severide, would like to say a few words."

Severide swallowed hard and stepped up to the front of the room. He stared out at everyone. Many people were crying- weeping, even- and it made him even more nervous than he already was. "Casey-" He cleared his throat. "Casey was a hero," he started. "He was a hero."'

"We've known each other since firefighter school. And I'm not going to lie, but we hated each other at first. We were the best that year, and both of us wanted to be the top. But…one day we were paired together for a test, and it went wrong. But Casey and I were there for each other."

"He and I have been best buds ever since. Well, minding a few bumps in the road of course. We work together. We're both lieutenant's over at firehouse 51. Him, on truck, and me, on squad. We're pretty much inseparable now. I even let him sit at the squad table occasionally."

A few wet chuckles escaped the crowd. Severide continued. "I don't think I can count the number of times Casey's saved me. We've always been there for each other. He's saved so many others that I can't count. I mean, he wasn't just even a normal life-saving firefighter. He was always willing to put his own life at risk to save someone else's."

"Like that baby. The baby that he saved that nearly had him killed the first time. We told him it was too risky, but there was no way Casey was leaving without that baby. He ended up in hospital, nearly dead because of it. It's what caused the second hit to the head to be fatal."

"And then there's that second hit, because if I'm honest, I feel like it's my fault. Casey was being a stupid hero again. This time, it was me he saved. I nearly had a wrench to my skull, but Casey jumped the guy. Hit his head in the process, but fought like a mad man to keep me from getting hurt. Because even though it probably hurt him like anything, all he could think about was saving me. He was that kind of guy."

"Anyways, don't want to be sappy, because he would hate that, but we'll miss you, Casey. Think about us while you're up there in heaven, okay?"

And with that, Severide stepped quickly back. He couldn't let everyone see him cry. No, he was going to be strong. He needed to be strong enough for all of them.

The rest of the funeral went quickly for Severide, or so he thought. He didn't really pay attention. All the memories and comments would only make him more upset than he already was. Not that he shouldn't have been upset, he just wanted to keep a calm exterior. He would be the strong one in this crisis. Someone had to be.

Later that night at Molly's he sat alone, nursing a beer. Whenever someone tried to come up to him to express their condolences or just to talk, he brushed them off.

Dawson sat down next to him eventually, a beer in her own hands. And from the way she sat down, it wasn't her first.

"Don't want to talk about it," he mumbled to her, taking a sip of the cold liquid.

"Didn't say I wanted to," she snapped back.

Again, it seemed silent, but only between them. The bar was busy and very noisy, but between Severide and Dawson, it was silent. Eventually, after another beer each, almost everyone had cleared out, leaving them pretty much alone.

"Gotsa get home," Dawson slurred, standing up, albeit wobbly. "Shay's gonna be mad I stayed out lates'and-" She stopped suddenly, turning her head to look at Severide. "Matt's gone, Kelly."

"I know," he said quietly. "I know."

* * *

Killer headache.

That was Dawson's first thought as she awoke in the morning. It was morning, right? Well, sun streamed through the window, and she could hear birds chirping. But it couldn't be morning. Morning wasn't cold. Morning was a warm, happy time.

But as Dawson lay there, she considered what she was doing with her life. Yesterday, she had buried Matt. She had buried the love of her life. Then, she'd gone and gotten drunk.

She didn't remember much of the night. Unfortunately, she still remembered the funeral. Oh, how she remembered it!

Was it even worth the effort to go on? Dawson didn't want to move. Her bed didn't even feel inviting; no, she didn't ever want to move again. Matt was gone. Her life was in ruins. She couldn't see a point anymore. What did it fee like to be happy?

Fear coursed through her veins. No, no, she couldn't be thinking about suicide. Suicide was for the weak. She was strong. Or, at least, she figured herself to be strong. She was thinking about a permanent solution to a temporary problem- that's what she told suicidal people on calls, anyways.

But now that it was her in this position, Dawson could see the appeal. It wasn't because they felt nothing in their lives was worth it anymore, no, it wasn't because they believed they were unworthy of life. They just wanted it to stop. She just wanted it to stop. At this point, she felt she would rather feel nothing than…this.

She rolled over.

Alcohol was supposed to fix the whole feeling thing. Now, though, she was still just as depressed, only with a massive headache. Not to mention her stomach rolled like a stormy sea. Was it even worth it? Honestly, she couldn't tell you.

But she had shift today. Of course Boden had offered her grievance time, but she was too stupid to take it. When he'd offered it to her, she'd been in denial. She thought she'd be fine by now.

Stupid thought, though. How could she be fine? Matt was dead. Matt. Was. Dead.

She picked up her phone and dialed a number.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Come on, pick up.

"Hello?"

"Severide," she breathed. "Is Shay-" Her voice cracked. "Severide, I don't think I can do it."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. "Dawson," he said quietly. "I don't know if I can do it, either." Again, he paused. "Shay's not here. I don't know where she is." Pause. "I'll be right over."

She was too tired to argue. Any other time she would have pushed him away, told him she was fine. But not today. Today was different. "Okay," she said. "Okay."

Then, Dawson hung up the phone and rolled back over. Back to her side of the bed. Back to where she belonged.

How long it took Severide to get there, she didn't know.

"Dawson?"

Right, he must have used the key she'd left at their house in case of an emergency.

"Dawson, you wanna talk?"

She rolled over to face him. "Can you just lay beside me?" she asked, suddenly aware of the tears that rolled down her cheeks. "I haven't slept alone in…gosh, I don't know how long. It's so cold." It was quiet again for a moment. "Kelly?"

He looked down at her, his face contorted in pure agony. Then, without saying a word, he lay down beside her, head resting on Casey's pillow. His breathed slowly, as if trying to stay in control.

"Thank you," she whispered, allowing herself to cry. "Thank you, Kelly."

He reached over and wrapped an arm around her.

"Always."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! And for all you who have dirty minds, Severide is simply comforting Dawson. Right now they just need to hold another human being and feel alive and well. So don't be thinking about others stuff. There will be no romance in this. Ew. Romance._


	8. Chapter 8

_This is the last chapter, guys! I can't believe I'm finished posting this. Warning, Ido torture Dawson a WHOLE lot this chapter. I mean, as if I haven't tortured her enough, am I right?_

* * *

The firehouse was subdued.

Mouch sat stiffly on the couch, the TV down so low it could have been muted. Mills was flopped over a dining room chair. Severide sat inside too, for a change, staring at, but not reading, a newspaper. No one spoke.

Dawson sat off to the far side of the room, feet pulled up as she melted into an old recliner. Usually Cruz claimed this spot, but he gave it up for today.

Even Pouch was quiet. She knew something was wrong. But she didn't even whine, no, she just lay at Dawson's feet, her puppy eyes threatening to send Dawson off into another round of tears.

Brzzp! Baa! Bong! Ambulance 61, head trauma, 661 Maplewood Crescent.

The hair on Dawson's neck stood on end. Suddenly, if at all possible, the room was filled with even more tension. She stood up, and walked quickly to the ambulance. No sense being afraid, she scolded herself. Shay would be with her the whole time.

"Hey, you ready for this?" Shay asked as she buckled up her seatbelt. "I'm just saying, I could radio in we have a flat or-"

"I'm fine." Even to her own ears, Dawson's voice sounded flat. "We can't go shoving off a call just because it might remind me of Casey." Every call's gonna remind me of Casey. She quickly did up her own seatbelt. "What are you waiting for? Someone could die because we aren't going fast enough."

They rode in silence.

The building they pulled up to was old, and obviously well-worn down. Dawson sighed. She hated calls like this. The buildings were usually in a state of decay, and the people weren't always so welcoming to ambulance and police. That came with the neighbourhood.

"I bet someone fell down the stairs," Shay mused as her and Dawson hopped out the ambulance. "Or slipped in the bathtub. Bet you it was something stupid like that."

Dawson didn't say anything. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her stomach rolled. She quickly grabbed the rolling stretcher out of the rig. "Let's go," she said, her voice almost machine-like. "Death waits for no one."

"Right." Shay sprinted to catch up with Dawson. "That was probably the most depressing thing I've ever heard you say." She paused. "Gabbie, it's been less than a week. You really didn't have to come back to work so soon, you know."

"Would everyone just stop saying that!" Dawson's voice rose to a dangerous level. "Look, I know I didn't need to come back. I thought I would be fine, okay? I honestly did. I thought it would be like when you nearly died, and I'd just work through it." The wind blew cold across Dawson's face. "But I wish I didn't come back."

It was silent as the girls approached the worn building. Shay lifted her hand and knocked quite loudly, not sure what to say to her grieving friend. "Chicago ambulance!" she called out, then turning to Dawson, said, "We could always still radio in a flat you know."

"Shay-"

"Afterwards, I meant," Shay quickly interjected. "Stop somewhere, take a break, maybe grab some fries or something." She shrugged. "You know, just take a moment."

Dawson paused, thinking. "You know, I don't usually like to admit that sometimes I am human, but sure. That sounds nice."

"'Sometimes human'?" Shay giggled. "Is anyone even coming?" She rapped on the door again, harder this time, if at all possible. "Hello? Anyone here?"

The door handle turned and the door creaked open slowly. Dawson and Shay both peered in towards the slowly revealed person. It was a boy, maybe 6 or 7 years old, fair blond hair. His eyes were full of tears, and his lower lip quivered.

"Hey there." Shay bent down to look the little boy in the eyes. "My name's Leslie, and this is my friend Gabbie. What's your name?"

"Matthew," the little one sniffled.

A pain like no other hit Dawson right in the heart. She nearly staggered backwards with the force of it. Matthew…of all the names, this kid had to be named Matthew. On a head trauma call. She swallowed back bile and tried to smile. "Did you call 911?" she asked, although she noticed her voice shook slightly.

"Uh-huh," he said. "Can you fix him?" His lower lip trembled even more as he clung to the door. "He's hurt."

"Who's hurt?" Shay tried to keep her voice straight yet gentle.

Matthew looked on at Shay with tear-filled eyes. "My daddy." He sniffled. "He fell down the ladder and his head is bleeding. Can you fix him?"

Shay stood up and extended her hand, taking Matthew's small hand in hers. "We'll fix him right up," she said. "Can you show us where he is?" As the little boy led the girls up a long flight of stairs, Shay glanced behind her to look at Dawson. She knew the name was really rather unfortunate.

The pallor of Dawson's face could only be described as whiter than a Canadian in winter. Her hands shook, and she cursed them, wishing for all the world that she could just pretend this was a normal call. But it wasn't.

"He's in here." Matthew clung to Shay's hand now, afraid to let go. "Can you fix him?"

"Of course." Shay bent down to Matthew's level. "Can you stay here while we help your dad?" When he nodded, she continued. "Good boy. We'll be right back, okay?" With that, Shay hurried into the room, Dawson hot on her tail.

But then Dawson stopped.

His eyes.

Vivid green and cold, staring at Dawson with the judgment of a lifeless man.

She turned and ran.

"Hey! Dawson!"

But she kept running. Running past the other Matthew outside the door and down the stairs into the musty hallway before tearing open the front door. She fell to her knees, mind reeling and stomach summersaulting.

His eyes. How cold they were, how…green they seemed to stare back at her. She could tell just by looking at him that he was dead. The pool of blood that had surrounded his head, the eyes…those green eyes.

Dawson let herself fall backwards into the snow. He was dead. The man inside was dead. Matthew didn't have a father. She didn't have her Matthew. Was this ever going to get easier?

How long she lay there, she didn't know. Long enough for the snow to soak all the way through her uniform, right to her skin, until she was shivering madly. But still, she didn't get up. It wasn't until she could hear the distant wail of sirens and Shay came out did she move.

"Hey." Shay sat down on the path beside her. "Matthew's pretty shaken up. I told him to sit on the stairs. I didn't tell him about his dad, though. Couldn't bear to break it to him myself." She paused. "You must be wet by now."

"Hm," Dawson grunted. Then, pulling herself up into a semi-sitting position she turned to Shay. "You know, on occasion, I should listen to your advice. Radioing in a flat probably would have actually been a good thing. You know, minus the lying and such." She fell back down. "Did I screw up in my past life so much?"

The sirens got louder. "Maybe this is the universe's way of telling you to go on a long vacation. You know. To Cuba or somewhere warm and tropical."

Dawson smiled a bit. It was a small smile, but an expression of some sort of happiness nonetheless. "We should go to Cuba together," she said, once again sitting up. She gave Shay a little shove. "Recuperate. Do whatever people do when their boyfriend's go and die on them."

"I bet Boden would still give us time off," Shay said. "If not, you could cry in his office, and I could be all comforting. That would probably work on him."

Dawson snorted. "The old guilt trick? You really think he's gonna fall for that?"

"You never know. He's actually a softie at heart."

On cue, another ambulance and two police cars pulled up outside of the house. Shay pointed them inside, and waved off the hovering paramedics. Once everything had cleared, she spoke again. "I was really worried about you in there."

It was a moment before Dawson answered. "I just don't know how I'm supposed to get through this, Shay. Everything reminds me of him. Everything. And I don't know how to make it stop." And suddenly, Dawson realised she was crying. "I just don't know how to do it."

"You do it one step at a time. It's cliché, I know, but that's how you do it. One step, one breath." She paused, the cold wind blowing her hair across her face. "And you hold tight to your memories of Casey, but you hold tighter to those around you."

Dawson nodded, swallowing thickly as she tried to ebb the flow of tears. Finally though, with one final sniff, she stood up. "Let's go," she said. "We can fill out the paperwork back at the house."

They walked back to their rig slowly, not wanting to move to quickly for fear of shattering the fragile situation. Shay climbed in the driver's seat, but Dawson stalled for a moment, her eyes catching the glint of something off the ground. She bent down.

It was a penny; it was old and scratched, but Dawson picked it up, warmth spreading in her chest. He'd always loved pennies. It was that silly rhyme, but she'd loved it.

See a penny, pick it up, and all day long you'll have good luck.

Maybe she could make it. One step at a time, one breath at a time. And as long as she could hold Casey dear to her heart. She might be okay.

She might be okay.

* * *

_Tada! All done! I really hope you guys enjoyed reading this! Maybe someday soon I'll write something else. Maybe when they get around to readdressing Casey's skull fracture, since I'm not impressed with the fact they never mentioned that again, either. They better do something about it in the new season. Well, actually, if they kick him off the team I'll cry. He's really the only reason I watch it._

_Thanks for reading!_


End file.
